THE SEASONS' COMFORT

ry thine eyes, Doll! the stars above us shine;

God of His goodness made them mine and thine; 

His silver have we gotten, and His gold,

Whilst there's a sun to call us in the morn

To ply the hook among amid the yellow corn,

That such a mine of pretty gems doth hold:

For there's the poppy half in sorrow,

Greeting sleepy-eyed the morrow,

And the corn-flower, dainty tire for a sweetheart sunny-poll'd.

Dry thine eyes, Doll! the woods are all our own,

The woods that soon shall take a braver tone,

What time the frosts first silver Nature's hair;

The birds shall sing their best for thee and me;

And every sunrise listeners will we be,

And so of singing get the goodliest share;

When the thrushes sing so sweetly,

We would fain be footing featly,

But our hearts dance time instead in the throbbing matin air.

[38]

 Prev. P 38/44 next